


Next Year, in Gorna Oryahovitsa

by lysanatt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Falling In Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysanatt/pseuds/lysanatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes bravery to go to war, but it takes bravery, too, to learn to love again. A heated and unexpected encounter at the Quidditch World Cup brings two reserved men together, changing their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Year, in Gorna Oryahovitsa

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was a collaboration with one of my favourite fandom artists in HP fandom, cnary_crem_dght. I am honoured to have worked with her, and very happy to have something I wrote illustrated by her. Her art is different: she doesn't care to prettify her characters, thus making the art much more interesting.

**Part I. Desire (Let Me Take You Against the Wall)**

'No, Igor. You were nothing but a traitor to our Lord.' Severus glares at the man in front of him. He looks like an idiot in his expensive, elegant robes.

'And you, Severus? You weren't better. Giving yourself up to Dumbledore.' Igor Karkaroff's face contracts in disgust.

'You find this a fitting place to discuss such matters? Have you gone insane? Has the post as headmaster become too much for you? Or maybe the intense culturing of pure-blood offspring is more than you can manage?' Snape smirks. 'I understand you have taken a certain interest in that Quidditch player of yours.'

'What are you implying? I would never touch Viktor... I am not a deviant like-' Karkaroff interrupts himself and tries to rein in his anger. 'You are right, Severus. This is not for now. We will discuss our... allegiances later.'

The Durmstrang headmaster sweeps down the corridor with angry steps and the robe billowing around him. Severus leans against the cold wall. What a day this has been. First the Quidditch match (oh Merlin, leather and sweat and lithe bodies, and it has been far too long since he had a man last; why did he go to the World Cup, anyway?), then Igor and all his plans and scheming. Severus feels stressed and aroused and pent up--all at the same time. He stands in the quiet corridor for a while, listening. It seems as if nobody overheard them, overheard Karkaroff's slip. Severus wants to be certain that they were alone. He waits. The chill of the stone wall slowly spreads over his shoulders, making his sweat-damp robe cool and a bit uncomfortable. He rests his head against the granite, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to get his emotions under control. Danger always does this to him: the adrenaline sweeps him off his feet, let him feel light-headed and excited. It is frustrating, but he has learnt to live with it. Sometimes it just feels as if he is going to explode.

'It is very rude, vot you implied,' a heavy-accented voice states. 'It is not like that. Professor Karkaroff vould never step out of line.'

'Like _vot_?' Severus doesn't even open his eyes. He wonders how much the man has heard. The closed eyes gives him a moment to think. Of course he can just cast an _Obliviate_ and get it over with. He sighs. In the doorway leading to the Bulgarian team's changing room a lean, black-haired boy leans arrogantly against the doorpost. He is still wearing his Quidditch leathers and his robe is half open. His naked chest is visible under it. There is a dusting of sparse black hair around his nipples.

'Like I vould touch Professor Karkaroff. Vos that not vot you meant?' The boy stares at Severus with eyes as black and dangerous as his own. Severus feels as if he is looking into a mirror, watching his twenty year old younger self.

'You are Viktor Krum,' Severus says, as if Mr Krum has forgotten. 'Why are you still here?' Severus finds himself strangely fascinated by the Quidditch player, helped quite a bit by the view to a lean torso and the slight scent of fresh air and sweat that clings to the young man. He stops himself from staring. Krum's large nose and heavy eyebrows look almost like a distortion of his own visage. Only Krum is good looking. Actually, he is more than good looking, and Severus can feel his earlier arousal return. He has some difficulty not to let his eyes linger on Viktor Krum's delicious, pink nipples. The plan to Obliviate Krum has gone to rest somewhere behind Severus' need.

'So?' Viktor doesn't move. 'I am here because my team isn't happy with me. I vonted to vait until they vere gone. You vere votching the game?' Krum gathers himself, the closed expression alters into one of cunning interest. 'Who are you?' Krum's eyes slide haughtily over Severus' tall shape. For a moment Krum's eyes widen as he realises Severus has an erection the size of a log. His gaze doesn't move away, but he blushes slightly. There is an expression of appreciation in Krum's eyes. Then he straightens, as if he has taken a decision. 'Can I go shower now, or are you going to votch that too?' Krum raises a hand, a bit insecure, as if this is not something he would usually do, or maybe he had never done so before. The dark eyes glitter as he slowly unbuttons yet another button in his robe, then slides this hand half way inside. 'The match vos... exciting, vos it not?' he asks, and his voice is almost a whisper. 'A hard game always... makes me want-'

Viktor doesn't manage to say more before Severus has pushed him inside, into the empty changing room. The door closes hard behind them and the locks slide in place, forced by Severus' spell. Viktor moans as Severus pushes him up against the wall. It seems as if Severus read the signals right. 'Is this what you want?' Severus purrs, as his hands rip at the Quidditch robe. 'To get it hard up against the wall?'

'Yes!' Viktor's leather-clad arms rub against Severus' skin, and the scent of leather and sweat is driving him insane. Frantically, he tears off Krum's robe, continuing to open the young man's trousers, something that makes Krum moan even louder. Soon he is assisting Severus in getting them both undressed enough, barely enough, to do what they both want in this instance of insanity that seems to have hit them.

Strong fingers find their way inside Severus' half-open robe, and buttons are opened. He moans too, a dark, promising moan, as Krum takes him in hand. Merlin be damned! Severus cannot remember last time he has been this aroused. He leans over the half-naked young man, licks his skin, kisses down his chest, massaging one nipple with a free hand and licks the other until it is hard and puckered under his lips. Above him, Krum's breath is ragged. ' _Lapai mi huia_ ,' he groans. 'Please! God! Suck me! Suck my cock!' Hands push Severus further down, and he doesn't need encouragement, Krum's hard cock is throbbing just _there_ , and Severus takes it inside, enjoying the silken skin and the even louder moans Krum makes.

  


Severus pauses only for a moment to summon a bottle of some fluid. He doesn't really care what it is, as long as it is greasy. He pours a good amount over his fingers and, as he resumes his sucking, he pushes a hand between Krum's legs, searching for his hole, sslips a finger inside. Krum cries out and tenses when the long digit is pushed further up. But Krum relaxes and forgets his tension as Severus' warm tongue swipes over his slit, then presses into it. Severus uses his teeth to tease the head of the marvellous cock, distracting Krum enough to make him able to insert yet another finger in the deliciously tight arse. Krum's hands are firmly entangled in Severus' hair, and he tries to thrust into Severus' mouth, wanting more, wanting to come.

But Severus will not allow it. With a hand he stills Krum's thrusts, moving and spreading his fingers inside the delicious warmth of Krum's clenching hole. He lets the cock slip out of his mouth. He would have liked to suck Krum until he comes, but there is no time. 'Turn,' he says hoarsely, and withdraws his fingers. 'I want to fuck you.'

Krum stiffens. 'I...' he says, but turns, leaning on his arms against the wall.

Severus has rarely seen anything more inviting, more arousing; Krum with his trousers around his knees, still in leather and boots and hair tussled from the wind and the game...he is more delicious than anyone he has ever had. Krum's far too mature expression is gone, and there is a slight flicker of fear in his eyes as he turns his head to look at Severus. Severus can hardly breathe as he lets his hand caress the firm buttocks. Underneath the skin the muscles are firm and accentuated, flexing as Krum moves. Quickly, Severus massages his own cock with the shampoo-slick hand, making himself ready.

'Do you want to continue,' Severus whispers softly in Krum's ear. He has seen Krum's inexperience and wonders briefly exactly _how_ inexperienced Krum is. He kisses what skin he can reach, and Krum's _yes_ is nothing but a murmur against the white tiles. It is enough. Severus presses against the enticing opening, slowly... slowly. He wants to be careful. Krum whimpers under him, and only Severus' calm strokes over his shoulders makes him calm down. 'I want you,' Severus groans. 'So delicious...'

Krum doesn't reply. His body is tense and strung and it takes time for Severus to get inside--the clenching warmth is driving him to the brink of orgasm several times. Finally he is in to the hilt and it feels heavenly. Krum is making little noises, created only to drive Severus even further out, he is certain. He begins to move slowly and the weak noises turn into cries. The hotness around his cock becomes too much; he is too aroused and cannot hold back. Severus thrusts in, one time, two, three. It is enough! He feels a deep wave well over him, black and velvet-soft and tingling, and he comes, pumping Krum's arse full of his semen. Krum's hands are scrabbling against the wall, his head pressed up against the stones. His eyes are closed. There is a tear lingering in a dark eyelash. It falls while Severus watches it.

'Shhh,' Severus says. 'I'll make it good for you.' He pulls out carefully, then helps Krum to stand. His eyes are still closed, as if he doesn't want Severus to see his pain. Calmly Severus pushes him up against the wall. 'I'll make it good for you,' he repeats, this time his lips hover over Krum's mouth. Then he kisses the young man for the first time, and Krum freezes for a moment, and his mouth becomes pliant and open. They kiss for a while, exchanging caresses and repartees, tongues sliding and tasting. Severus can feel Krum's cock stir and harden against his thigh, and he pushes a hand between them to keep his promise. He makes it good for Krum, oh yes!

In a few minutes, Krum's breath is changing: transforming the slight displeasure into little pleasure-filled moans. He is thrusting into Severus' hand, gasping every time Severus slides his thumb over the head. This time there is no pain and when Krum opens the black eyes for a moment, they are glazed over, lust and desire and need clear in them. He comes, with Severus' semen running down his thighs like little rivers of left-over pleasure and with Severus' tongue buried in his mouth.

  


They stand, resting in each others arms, sharing kisses and an almost ironic intimacy: two strangers in a strange place, yet still so recognisable in their resemblance. Two reserved men, set apart from the world because of allegiance and talent, but right this moment fitting so well with the other.

Severus leaves without a word. He will never see Viktor Krum again.

Or so he thinks.

 

**Part II. Intermezzo (The Words Unspoken)**

Now Viktor knows who the man is. Severus. Severus Snape, professor, Potions master. Despised, hated, feared. Cold and ambiguous and with unfortunate and suspicious allegiances. Only in Viktor's mind the memory of soft hands and kisses and of Severus' tenderness still lingers before the reality settles there; the reality of what and who Professor Snape is. Viktor remembers his own shameless behaviour, how he begged for what Severus gave him. And he realises he would do it again. Only the look in the Professor Snape's eyes is colder than ice and sharper than steel. Viktor is silent. There is a world between them now, a wall of ice and rejection.

But from time to time it feels as if he is being watched. As if someone is looking at him. As if distant dark eyes are aflame with need. The longing is scorching his skin. He waits. Nothing happens. When Yuletide comes, he asks Hermione Granger to go with him to the ball and there are no more heated glances after that. Hermione is a sweet girl.

But at nighttime, Viktor dreams only of black hair and black eyes, so alike his own.

It takes more than two years after the Triwizard Tournament before Professor Severus Snape finally puts pen to parchment and writes a letter for famous Quidditch star Viktor Krum.

It takes less than two minutes for Viktor to write a reply.

 

**Part III. Tenderness (Softly I Take You to Paradise)**

'You are a Death Eater,' Viktor says, even before he has stepped out of the Floo. 'They said so at Fleur's and Bill's vedding. Vy must you be a Death Eater?'

'I don't _must_ ,' Severus says, amused over his guest. 'It is who I am.'

'Vot is so vunderful about being vone? Look how it vent vith Grindelvald. You vill just get killed.'

'Viktor... I'm...' The amusement has gone. This is not what Severus had imagined. He had hoped Viktor didn't know, but someone has obviously informed him of what has happened since Severus left Hogwarts last year, before he returned to Hogwarts as headmaster of the school. He knows Viktor supports the other side, of course, but... For once it is Severus who feels insecure. 'Do we need to discuss this... I...' Suddenly he is afraid Viktor will just leave, disappear out of his life again. Suddenly Severus doesn't understand why Viktor even replied to his letter, or why he has agreed to visit him at all. Somehow Severus doesn't even understand himself or the insecurity he feels. It's a leftover from his youth. Viktor, on the other hand, exudes a strange confidence. He looks like someone who knows what he wants--and how to get it. The boy has grown up, Severus realises. He's a man now.

'No. Ve do not. But ve vill vunce, I vant to know if I vill loose...' Now it is Viktor's turn to look awkward, as if he had said too much, and not enough.

Severus remembers his duties as a host. It is a nice diversion from the odd mood that has risen between them. The rest they will have to solve later. 'Please, let me show you your room... and if you'd like to rest a bit, or...' He awaits Viktor's answer, tense and almost afraid to breathe.

'It has been a long journey,' Viktor says, and Severus is not sure whether Victor means the distance or the years which has passed. 'I'd like that.'

Victor's eyes soften, as if he understands Severus' insecurity, but how can he? Viktor Krum has always been much courted. How can he ever understand that Severus has only dared love once and now this, Viktor's visit, makes Severus feel as if he is walking on the edge of disaster. How can Viktor Krum understand what Severus needs... what he longs for? It has been a long journey for Severus as well. Two years, before he finally admitted what he had known for almost as long: he wants Viktor Krum, wants the mirror and the conflict and the difficulties and everything it would give him. Something new, something that isn't Death Eater politics or memories of green eyes and long, red hair.

Whether he can have it--that is another question.

As it is, he just might. He shows Viktor the large bathroom and the guest bedroom, then leaves his visitor. Severus tries to pretend that he actually has something sensible to do. But from the living room he listens to the sprinkling murmur of the shower: it seems as if Viktor is going to stay, that he isn't put off entirely. Severus breathes out. It feels as if he has held on to that single breath for half an hour.

'Severus?' Viktor's voice sounds through the noise of the running water. 'Vill you give me a tovel?'

Severus is quite certain he put several towels in the bathroom, but nevertheless he finds more, then walks to the bathroom to put them outside the door. Only he can't. Because the bathroom door is open and Viktor is very naked and the shower curtain is not drawn. Also Viktor is sporting the largest erection Severus has seen since... well, since he had sex with Viktor in the changing room during the Quidditch World Cup. There is a large pile of towels on a chair next to the bath tub.

Oh.

Viktor slowly slides a hand up his soapy chest. Severus' eyes slide over this marvellous piece of man in front of him. Viktor is lean and fit and muscular in all the right places.

'Can I finish my bath now, or are you going to votch that too,' Viktor asks, and circles a nipple with the tip of his finger. 'Then maybe you vould like to come in here and help me?'

'Do I have to justify that question with an answer? It seems redundant.' Severus pulls off his robe, buttons are almost ripped off as he tries to get out of his clothes as quickly as possible. Viktor reaches for his wand and point at the taps, letting a steamy, lemon-scented waterfall fill the large tub. He stands there, in the middle of it, like a Greek god, tall and marble-skinned with the steamy fog rising around the perfect body. Severus has difficulties swallowing. Viktor is marvellous, and Severus feels inadequate with his own thin, angular body, protruding hip-bones and ribs that stick out.

Together they sink into the warm water. Viktor moves to sit between Severus' legs, and the insecurity and awkwardness drown in the bubbles as Viktor sighs and leans into Severus' embrace.

'I haff been thinking of you,' Viktor says. 'Many nights, Severus.'

'Oh,' Severus just says. He is not sure what to say. _I have been dreaming of you too_ , maybe? Or _Don't ever leave me_? But he says nothing. He is not ready, not yet. There are so many things that can go wrong: they are in the middle of a war, and Severus _is_ a Death Eater. He doesn't think he is going to survive. No, Severus cannot speak the words, but his body speaks for him: his erection is rubbing against Viktor's buttocks, his hands have gone to stray on their own, this time slowly and meticulously exploring the hard surface that is Viktor's well-trained body. Viktor's head rests on his shoulder and it is so easy just to kiss him. Severus does. First soft kisses, brief brushes of lips against lips. Then, as Viktor opens his mouth, they grow deeper, more intimate, until the fire of repressed lust takes them both and their kisses become omnivorous little animals, fighting to get the most of what is offered them.

Severus' lips are wet and red and swollen when they finally let each other breathe. 'I have wanted you since that day,' Severus whispers. 'I want you now.'

Viktor just turns a little in his arms. 'You can haff me.' Viktor's eyes are tired and soft and there are no traces of the brooding expression he usually has. 'Please, Severus.'

This time there is no urgency. Fingers are sucked into hot mouths, necks are explored, mapped out with kisses, covered by the tingling of soft lips. Hands move softly, then more and more demanding as their bodies move with the lazy waves. They lie close together in the hot water, hands meet, closing around hard cocks. The rare smile on Severus' face is appreciated with one just like it, Viktor's lips curl in pleasure and relaxation and wonderment.

'I never realised it could be like this. That you could be so...' Viktor whispers, his words broken by little moans.

'Neither did I,' Severus says and closes his eyes and comes, his cock against Viktor's, both of them drowning in the waves of pleasure that wash over them.

They make love again, then again. As many times as they can manage before Viktor has to go back to Bulgaria and peace and Quidditch.

 

'Will I see you again,' Severus asks, just before Viktor is ready to Apparate out, realising they never discussed his own position as Lord Voldemort's right hand man. Maybe it doesn't matter any more?

'If you vant?' Viktor slides a thumb over Severus' cheek in a movement that expresses both possessiveness and tenderness.

Severus just nods. He still cannot fathom the miracle has happened. Someone wants him for who he is, not for his powers or his connections or his potential status as a high-ranking Death Eater. Or maybe it is the contrary: Viktor wants him, despite of them. For the first time in many years there are odd feelings trying to release themselves from the iron prison that is Severus' mind. 'Yes,' he says. The smile he sends Viktor is unusually tender; it changes his strict, sour demeanour remarkably. He is still ugly and sallow and thin, but Severus Snape looks suspiciously happy.

'Come see me at Christmas,' Viktor says and Disapparates.

For the first time since he was a small child, Severus looks forward to the Christmas break.

 

**Part IV. Love (Before I Test My Wings)**

'What haff you bought me for Christmas?' Viktor's long leg is wrapped around Severus' back. He smiles and Severus cannot stop himself from smiling too. The situation is almost surreal. Alarming. Severus should be striding around angrily on Hogwarts' grounds, making certain Voldemort's orders are effectuated without too many casualties, and Viktor should be practising with the Vratsa Vultures. Only they don't. They lie in Viktor's large bed--having left it only a few times since Severus arrived two days ago.

'I haven't brought you anything, and if I had, would I tell you? It would really make the surprise of an unexpected gift considerably less surprising.'

'Severus! It is Christmas. I haff something for you...'

'You have, have you? Well, I think I can find _that_ all by myself.' Severus rolls over on his side so he can kiss Viktor. He lets his fingers trail over the deliciously naked chest, then further down, until he can wrap his fingers around Viktor's cock. 'See? Easily found,' Severus purrs. 'And what do you suggest I do with it? Maybe you'd like to show me what it's for?'

'You mean...' Viktor's breath hitches.

Severus nodded. 'If you'd like that too.'

'I vould like it.' Viktor bites his lip, and Severus finds him utterly sexy. Somehow the mix of world fame and boyish, brooding innocence hits all the right buttons. Severus' buttons.

'I want you, Viktor,' Severus whispers. 'I want you that way as well. Call it a Christmas present, if you must.' He stretches out and turns on his back, that way showing he is ready for what his young lover wants.

'And why are you not gift-vrapped? Vare are the ribbons?' Viktor leans down and kisses Severus deeply. Severus doesn't mind at all, nor does he mind Viktor's hands on his body, strong hands that move his thighs wide apart, hands that caress his bollocks and slide over his cock. For the first time in his life, Severus allows himself just to sink down in the pleasure he is offered, relishing every sensation, unafraid that anything will happen; the Dark Lord, unruly children, the Order... No. Here he can relax and it makes his arousal spiral until his breath is loud and he cannot keep his hips still.

Trough the haze of lust he hears Viktor summon something and Severus expects a cold slide of a slicked finger against his exposed hole. It doesn't come. What comes is Viktor, pulling Severus' arms over his head, against the headboard.

'I said I vanted a gift. It is all your own fault, this.' Viktor holds a piece of red silk ribbon in his hand. 'I vant you vrapped up for me.'

'Oh damned... oh, Viktor!' That is all Severus can say, the rest of the words he has just come out as little moans. He tries to think for a moment, trying to find out if he really wants this and Severus realises that he does. To be Viktor's, that is what he wants, just as Viktor has been his, even if it was without the silken ribbons. 'Please,' Severus says and loses himself in the freedom it is to hand himself over to his lover.

Viktor moves, a slender, lithe body over Severus' thin, hollow chest. The soft ribbon is wrapped around Severus' wrists. His cheeks are flushed, as if he is embarrassed by what Viktor is doing to him. He moans as his arms are stretched and tied firmly to the bed.

'You are mine now,' Viktor says. 'My Severus.' There is a light in Viktor's eyes, a light Severus haven't seen before. His eyes slide over the lover's body; Viktor is almost eagle-like in the way he hovers above him. Viktor's eyes suddenly look like those of a bird of prey.

'Yes,' Severus agrees, almost reluctantly. 'I'm yours.' He recognises determination when he sees it.

  


Then Viktor's long black hair falls over them both and any coherent thought leaves his mind as Viktor takes his present in possession with lips and tongue and teeth. Only when two long fingers slide up his arse, Severus cries out; not because it hurts, but because it feels so intense. It is just a small taste, before Viktor slicks his cock up and slowly presses inside Severus' tight body. Viktor pushes Severus' legs up, leaning over him so they can kiss. Severus pulls the ties, but he is held firmly, firmly tied up, firmly pinned under Viktor's strong body.

Viktor rests his head against Severus' shoulder for a moment. 'You are very tight,' he groans. 'Very.' It takes a while before Viktor moves. Severus can do nothing but lie there and take the hard cock and he enjoys every second. The way Viktor moves: as if the slight clumsiness he usually has when he is not on his broom is disappearing and the lean body performs a fluent dance of lust and pleasure, elegantly moving and swaying with the thrusts. Severus doesn't think he has ever seen anything so beautiful. He is enchanted, paralysed, almost as if he was a rabbit, caught in the light of Viktor's brilliance. Maybe that is why the words tumble over his lips. Maybe he has just needed this moment of perfect vulnerability to say them. Maybe he realises his life would have been different if he had dared say them before, those many years ago, to another person, another love. His only--until now. He hovers on the flood of pleasure, can almost see the words forming in his mind, and suddenly he is convinced he must say them, make it real between them. No matter the risk or the cost.

'I think I am in love with you,' Severus moans. 'I need you.'

Viktor's thrusts stop. Black eyes are brimming with surprise and tenderness. 'Severus...' Viktor's voice is barely there, nothing more than a whisper of the wind. 'Severus...'

Then Viktor's lips are upon his, and the kiss they share is violent and powerful and feels as if they are both agreeing to a pact.

'I love you,' Viktor murmurs against Severus' mouth. 'I am in love vith you too.'

'Oh Lord,' Severus just moans and arches up against Viktor's body. The sensation of lust and their orgasm closing in on them have another dimension added to them: a strange happiness and the feeling of everything just making sense flare through Severus' mind. It is exhilarating. 'Show me,' Severus moans. 'Show me, Viktor!'

And Viktor does. He resumes the thrusts into Severus' body, hands and lips take them both further, as if the raw touch of hands on skin makes them both even more aroused. Viktor's callused hand and strong fingers close around Severus' cock, and with a few strokes they are both there; leaving the ground to fly above the stars, to see a new universe being born in their minds. For a while it seems to Severus as if his senses are hyper-aware: there is a drop of sweat trickling over Viktor's brow. It takes an eternity for it to fall. The shadows on Viktor's skin... they are clear, a distinct contrast between black and white. His cheeks and nipples are a deep earthy pink. Severus wants to lick them, and he does, raises his head while the last deep moans leave his chest, and lets his tongue taste them. Viktor is shaking from the orgasm; the thrusts have subsided and Severus can feel the cock inside him, pulsing still.

They stay in their little corner of Paradise for a while, until they safely can break the burning gazes they share. Until every drop of semen has been spilled inside or outside lust-ridden bodies. Until it is time to return to reality and find out if the words spoken in a haze of ecstasy are still there.

Carefully, Viktor withdraws and lies down next to Severus. His hand rests lightly on Severus' come-smeared stomach. 'Now you haff both been the first man who took me, and the first I took,' Viktor whispers. 'Thank you, Severus.'

Severus' eyes are filled with wonder as he looks up at the young man who has offered him himself. And Severus finds that it is he who has been given the greatest gift.

Later, Severus is released from his bonds, and they fall asleep in each others' arms, as if Severus is some strange caricature of a Christmas toy of the cuddly variety, created only for Viktor to hold on to.

 

Next day is Christmas, and of course Severus has brought presents for Viktor. Only none of them are remotely as interesting to play with as the ribbons they are all wrapped with. They use several days to look into that particular part of Christmas cheer.

But time comes and time goes; soon Severus has to go back to his school, to war and politics and deadly danger. He has packed and shrinked his worn leather suitcases, pulled his travel cloak on, and is ready to go. He'll Apparate most of the way until he reaches England. Then he has to be careful. He doesn't want to lead anyone to Viktor.

'I do not vant you to go, Severus.' Viktor looks very young and vulnerable for a moment. 'I am afraid you vill be killed. Cannot you change sides? I haff heard it is not clever to trust He Who Must Not be Named.'

'I don't trust him, Viktor. I... have taken precautions. I am not a fool.'

'Precautions? Vot precautions? Are you not expected to help he who- your lord - to kill Harry Potter? Hermy-own-ninny says so.'

'And of course we must believe that, especially since _Hermione_ Granger says it,' Severus sneers angrily. 'You do not know everything, neither does she. I cannot tell you.'

Viktor raises an eyebrow, a movement almost scarily like the one Severus just made. 'You vill not tell me. Do you not trust me after vat you said? After what I said? Do you not believe I tell you the truth?'

Severus' expression softens. 'Yes. I believe you.' And he does. He had seen honesty in Viktor's eyes; he has felt it echoed in his heart too. The question is just if what Viktor offers is worth the risk. Severus takes a decision. 'Swear to me you will not tell anyone what I tell you,' he says, the seriousness of the vow clearly painted in his expression. 'On your life.'

'I swear,' Viktor says. 'I vill never betray you.'

'I am not what I seem,' Severus says. He is not certain he dares say more.

Viktor might be a physical person, but he is not stupid. On the contrary. 'You are a spy?' he asks, wonderment spreads over his face. 'You are still a spy for Hermy-own-ninny's side?'

Severus coughs and tries not to say something particularly nasty about a certain Miss Granger. He just nods. There is nothing more he _can_ say, he has already said too much.

Viktor slides his arms around Severus. 'Be careful. I vill not lose my favourite present.' A flicker of sadness shows in Viktor's eyes. 'It vill take time before I see you again?'

'Next year,' Severus says. 'When the war is over.' He leans in to kiss Viktor before he steps forward to Disapparate. He leaves without another word, but takes with him the memory of Viktor's kisses and of the tender words spoken between them. Next year, he said. Next year he might be dead. 

Viktor will never see him again.

Or so Severus thinks.

 

**Part V. Free (As a Bird I Hover)**

The small aeroplane hangs under the sun like a tiny black bird. The humming sound of the propeller comes closer, rising to an angry roar as the pilot sets down the machine on the ground. The airport is small, just as the machine, making them fit very well together. None of them are new and the letters on the side of the airplane are barely visible. Just like the letters on the terminal building: one has fallen half-way off, dangling in the bottom of an upturned и. _Welcome to Gorna Oryahovitsa_ , a sign says in English and Bulgarian. A ladder is leaning against the wall, as if a worker is getting ready to rectify the error.

The tall man walking in the middle of the small group of passengers doesn't see it. He is looking through dark sunglasses for something else, for someone else. He pulls the black scarf he wears around his neck tighter; it looks a little odd with a stylish black suit, long black hair, and then the thick, woollen scarf. It is autumn, but still a bit too warm for scarves and heavy black coats. Of course people can wear what they like, and the other passengers don't waste much time looking at the sinister type.

The sinister type doesn't waste any time on them, either. Because there, under the sign, next to the carpenter who has now entered the ladder with a hammer, he can see the someone he has been looking for. He stops for a moment, letting the strange sensation that feels so much like happiness wash over him. Quickly he walks the last few feet that separate them.

'I have been thinking of you,' the tall man says. 'Viktor.'

Without caring whether it is proper behaviour or not, Viktor Krum simply kisses his lover there, in the middle of the Muggle airport. 'I vos scared I vould never see you again. That you vere dead. They told me you vere. You are very slow to vrite letters, Severus.'

'I know. I won't send more,' Severus says. 'Now I'm home.'


End file.
